


The Best Iteration

by ButterflyPrincess



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Chinese food is basically better than sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyPrincess/pseuds/ButterflyPrincess
Summary: This is the best iteration of TSM ever. They are at their strongest, now more than ever. It has to happen either now or never. If they don't make it this year, they never will.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Throws angsty Biolift to the masses*  
> Have fun <3

The best iteration

 

 

_This is the best iteration of TSM ever. They are at their strongest, now more than ever. It has to happen either now or never. If they don't make it this year, they never will._

 

Vincent sees the Nexus explode right in front of himself, not from above as you usually do, but right there. The scattered crystal rains from the sky and pierces his skin, the millions of fragments cutting it open with their tiny sharp edges. It burns, it hurts more than anything. He sees RNG tower over him, so much bigger, so much stronger than him and he realized he's alone, doesn't know where his team is, doesn't know where _Peter_ is.

 

Vincent feels a tear running down his cheek as he desperately turns his head in every direction, trying to find something, _someone._ He has never felt so lost before, so alone. He screams but there's no sound leaving his mouth, his voice is not more than just a breath. He's alone, alone, alone and he can't even scream for help and he doesn't even know how to move anymore, it's like he's glued to the ground, his head running in circles as his feet are unable to take one step.

 

 _Peter!,_ he calls in his head but his mouth isn't moving. It feels heavy as hell and everything hurts and somewhere in the distance he believes to hear TSM chants that slowly die down to creepy whispers in the very last corner of his brain. It haunts him, makes him tremble. People cheering for him and his team but he let them down, every single one of them. And now they blame him, he can fell it. They mock him with every silent whisper.

 

“Vincent.” He stops trembling or a second.

 

“Vincent?” He turns around.

 

“Vincent!” He sees him. Peter. There's Peter! He's here, here for him, walking towards him, concern all over his face. Or is it blame as well? Is Peter blaming him, too? Has he let him down as well? Oh no, no. He can't let down Peter in a million years, he wouldn't dare to. He would never, could never... How could he ever let down the man who taught him so much, praised him so much, believed in him so much?

 

Vincent breaks down at Peter's feet, not able to even stand anymore. He can't stand, can't speak, can't breathe. It's all too much. It all weighs too heavily on his shoulders, drags him down and ties him to the ground even more. All the defeat, the embarrassment, the disappointment. It's like gravity has tripled all of a sudden and it slowly but surely destroys him.

 

“Vincent?!”

 

“Vincent?!!”

 

“DUDE VINCENT!”

 

He gasps and... basically rips his fucking eyelids apart as he wakes up.

 

A dream.

 

Just a dream.

 

He's fine.

 

He takes a moment to breathe.

 

“God, fucking finally...”, Peter sighs, his hand tightly wrapped around Vincent's wrist as he sits there next to him in their bed, looking down with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? God, you're so not okay, you're fucking crying, oh my God. Is it because of me, did I make you feel uncomfortable? Can I-”

 

“Geez, can you go back to being an asshole?”, Vincent groans and grabs a pillow to press it onto face.

 

“Later maybe. But now what's up? Just a nightmare? Is it because of the games today?”

 

Vincent throws the pillow away, sits up and tries to look at Peter, tries to smile even but gloriously fails at both because he's never been good at pretending. Who is he kidding, anyway? Peter probably knows him better than he knows his role in game. He can't lie to this man and lying when your cheeks are all wet with tears might also not be a very good idea from the get go.

 

“Yeah, the games...”, he admits, silently, his voice not more than a whisper.

 

Peter smiles at him sympathetically and pulls him into a tight hug, throwing Vincent a tad bit out of balance but it's okay. He's rather out of balance but still in Peter's arm than feeling as lonely as in his dream. “Don't blame yourself, okay? I fucked up here, I played like a fucking monkey. It's not your fault.”

 

“An AD Carry is only as good as his support...”, Vincent mumbles into the crook of Peter's shoulder and only carefully wraps his arms around his back. He isn't even sure who he's got those words from, probably multiple people. Yeah, he's pretty sure it's multiple people he's heard say them and he believes it. Doublelift can always be Doublelift but without a support enabling him he's not more than Fabbby. On a bad day. With Matt roaming. He almost wants to laugh a little. He would probably, if it wasn't so painfully unfunny.

 

He believes to see see it in Peter's eyes from time to time. That he wants to do more, carry harder, be the one people look up to as _the_ “Doublelift” but seriously, how is he supposed to do that when his support is not capable of being more than a half-decent boyfriend. And maybe he's not even that. Maybe he even sucks at that. Yeah, probably he does. Peter should just get rid of him maybe. Get a better support, a better boyfriend. Get his dear Aphro back. Yeah, that sounds good.

 

“Vincent, please... Don't say such crap. We both played Solo Queue often enough in our lives to know that's not true. And I can basically hear you thinking. I'd never replace you. Get it? Never.” Peter puts a and under Vincent's chin, forcing him to look up. Eyes locked, he repeats, “Never” and presses a chaste kiss onto Vincent's lips.

 

It feels warm and nice and almost like home. It's what he needed in a way and he allows himself to melt into it, trying to blend out his own mind. It works. It does a little at least. He starts moving his lips against Peter's a bit more eagerly, hoping to forget about himself even more. Maybe it'll work, maybe it'll make him feel better for a little. He feels a bit like a drug addict who rather drowns himself in all kinds of illegal substances than to think about the real world and sometimes he thinks that's what love is and that's what relationships are for. Distracting yourself from the real world. And if you end up in the wrong part of the world with the “wrong” kind of person, then it's even just as illegal.

 

Sighing, Vincent pulls back after some time. He looks at Peter, sadness dominating his eyes. “Peter, I... I feel silly, I... Should that really get to me so much? Like... I just feel like it's all my fault, just mine alone and... fuck, I just...”

 

Peter shuts him up with another quick kiss that doesn't last longer than a few seconds but it's enough to make Vincent at least listen a little.

 

“It's not your fault, at sure as hell not _yours alone_. Even if it was no one would blame you, you're a rookie. It's a miracle you even got that far. People bl ame me, or Søren. Hell, even Dennis. Not you. I mean, have you looked at Twitter? You got all their love while I got fucking death threats. And do you know why? Because you won their hearts. Just like mine.”

 

Peter smiles at him, sincerely and Vincent wonders what he did in life to deserve this. “Stop being so fucking cheesy”, he mutters as he looks down, his face flushed.

 

“Oh c'mon, you're the only person I'm ever that cheesy with, so don't deny me.” Peter laughs and pokes Vincent in the side, making him wince and giggle a little as he delightfully watches his face lit up more and more before he sees a little something there, barely visible in the half-dark room that's only lit up by a weak little lamp on the nightstand.

 

Vincent spares him the act of asking as he wonders, “Not even with Aphro?”

 

“Don't be silly, Zaqueri and I had nothing close to a healthy relationship. We fucked, we fought and then we fucked to get over the fight. We never talked shit out, never respected each others' opinion and I certainly would not have bothered to care about why the fuck he kept randomly whimpering and trembling in his bed in the middle of the night. Like, hell I just would've ask that prick to sleep in the fucking shower. And now, stop comparing yourself to him.” With this, Peter pulls Vincent into another kiss.

 

“But-” Peter doesn't even think about letting him finish. He just presses his lips onto Vincent's harder, stressing his point even more.

 

Vincent wants to believe him. Wants to believe that he really is different, special even but that's far from easy. So far. Because how do you believe you're special when the only thing you've ever been good at is a fucking video and even there you can't get out of the group stages of the World Championship? How is Vincent supposed to be more special than the player he has looked up to all those past few years?

 

“I know you're still over-thinking”, Peter sighs as he pulls back to look at Vincent in worry. “What can I do to make you feel better? Shall I tell you what's so special and different about you? Like...”, his lips find the side of Vincent's neck, making him shiver at the light touch, “The way you react to everything I do...?” He trails off and kisses along Vincent's jawline, dedicating himself to every inch of skin underneath his lips.

 

“Peter, I-”, Vincent gasps and oh damn, he feels like he knows where that's going.

 

“Or maybe~”, Peter purrs, leaning back, hand resting on Vincent's cheek, his thumb delicately caressing the soft skin, “Maybe... we postpone _this_ and I'll take you out for dinner tonight. Chinese?”

 

Vincent considers for a moment. A part of him wants to just grab Peter by the collar and once again drown himself in eager kisses and loving touches, trying to forget his thoughts but in the end, what's it worth? He'd still be sad, still disappointed, the only change being that he would've had and orgasm. So maybe yeah. Maybe Chinese food and talking is the better choice.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh btw thanks to Doublelift for canonically asking out Vincent for dinner which saved me from a route that would've led to smut otherwise. Thank you Lift²


End file.
